


Moment of Truth

by JiM



Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Episode Related, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Series, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-10-25
Updated: 2001-10-25
Packaged: 2018-11-10 07:09:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11122320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JiM/pseuds/JiM
Summary: Crossing the Line Series - Sort of meandering journey





	Moment of Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

  
Moment of Truth

## Moment of Truth

by anonymous co

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Aren't mine, don't own 'em, thought they were cute and might like to have some fun. Besides, talk about subtext. This is JiM's fault, and Bone's. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. But   


Author's Notes: 

Story Notes: 

This story is a sequel to: Slow Dancing 

* * *

  * Moment of Truth *** 



Moment of Truth 

Beth Bottrelle is alive. That's what Fraser keeps telling me whenever I start feeling like shit about it again. 

I was a rookie, he tells me. I trusted my superiors, he tells me. 

He's right. I know he's right. He was there with me through the whole fucking mess. Hell, I'm not sure I could have pulled it off without him. That makes my knees wobble to think about, that if we'd just done one zig instead of zag, she could be dead. 

He stayed with me that night, not that I did any sleeping. I just sort of vegged on the couch, and he didn't leave me. It did me some good, having him there, having him sit quietly and read while I snuffled in and out of the zone, not quite sleeping, not quite awake. 

Kept me tied down to earth, kept me from flying off into the dark, kept me remembering it was okay, she was home and alive. 

I stopped by after work today, just to see how she was doing, if she needed anything. She made me come in and have some coffee, and there were some other people there, some of her relatives and friends, and they all treated me like I was some kind of hero, and all that did was make me feel worse. 

That bottle of Scotch is calling my name when I get home, but I make myself hold off, at least until I eat something. I'm trying to decide between frozen pizza and a can of soup when there's a knock at the door. 

It's Fraser. On a week night. In uniform. "Hello, Ray." He's got Dief with him, and he holds up a paper bag. "I thought you might like to have dinner." 

On a week night. I let him in, stunned stupid. We saw each other this afternoon, in the station, and he never let on, never even hinted&. 

The minute the door is shut, I'm getting the life hugged out of me, and it feels damn good. Not that Fraser's been hovering, that's not Fraser's style, and I'd probably be mad as hell, but it's a good feeling, having him notice I was a little low this afternoon. "I'm good, Fraser." 

He doesn't say anything, but he lets go of me after a minute, hands me the sack. I open it, inhale, and it smells like Thai. "Sticky rice, too?" I manage a tired grin. 

"Of course." He puts his hat on the coffee table and Dief whines at me. 

I've still got the box of treats Fraser got a couple weeks ago. I carry the sack into the kitchen and put it on the counter, rummage for the box and get out a handful. 

"He's already eaten," Fraser tells me, kind of dry. 

I ignore that, and Dief gets up on me, front paws on my chest, and ignores the treats. Dumb dog. He sniffs all around me and makes this kind of annoyed sound. "Treats, Dief," I tell him. 

"I see he shares my taste in treats," Fraser says and grins. "Down, Dief." 

Dief gets down and I hunker down to give him the treats. He takes one delicately out of my hand and carries it back to lie down in front of the chair. 

"He better not," I tell Fraser, who's taking off the serge and pushing up the sleeves of his Henley. "That's definitely illegal, and besides, he's not my type." 

"I'm relieved to hear it." Fraser comes into the kitchen and opens up a cupboard for plates. "I tried to call earlier." 

"I, uh, stopped by to see Beth Bottrelle." I crack my neck and get out of his way, start taking those little boxes out of the bag. "Smells good." 

"Ah." 

See, I hate it when he does that. "Ah, what?" 

"Ah, that explains why you didn't answer your phone. I thought about calling your cell phone, but decided I'd surprise you instead." Warm look. Great look. 

I get into his personal space and start dishing up food. He puts a hand on the back of my neck, just ruffles my hair a little. "Your shoulders feel tight." 

I roll my head a little. "Yeah, a little." 

Now there's two hands on me, working those knots out, and I didn't know I could have this, too, I didn't know I could have the whole goddamned thing in one. Hot sex, friendship, and this&.God, tenderness, I guess. 

Feels good, inside and out, and I'm feeling better. Damn, that's scary, feeling this much better just because Fraser's here, and I can't decide if it's dumb or smart. But hey, slow dancing, like I said, I can do this. No reason to fucking panic, we got past that, I think. I hope. 

Like he knows what I'm thinking about, he kisses the back of my neck, gives my shoulders a last pat and reaches into the bag and gets out chopsticks. Puts a set on each plate, and then gets out the pan I use to make tea. 

I grin a little. He's such a purist, Fraser is, you can't eat food like this with a fork, he looks offended. Which is okay with me, I always kind of like doing it the right way. Surprised him I knew how. 

He opens the refrigerator once he's got the water on. "What would you like to drink?" 

You know, I don't even hear that Scotch any more. "Grab me a beer, okay?" 

He does, hands it to me. We take the plates into the livingroom and sit down on the couch, and I didn't realize how tired I was until now. Long day, mostly dull, burglary suspects, and a couple of grifters conning old folks in one of the neighborhoods, and I'm glad it's over. Having Fraser here is good. It's great. 

Friendship, sex, tenderness, and that thing I don't want to think about, the L word. I don't know for sure what he's feeling, but I'm not totally stupid. We may not talk about it, but Fraser's not a casual kind of guy. We're sitting close together, and I like just letting our shoulders rub up together, I like it that he feels comfortable enough these days to come over and surprise me, and I have to do that for him one of these days. I mean, daytime is our work selves and just the friends part of us, I think. 

It's like we both have this switch or something, we just kind of shut that down. For one thing, I swear, Frannie would catch on pronto, I know she would. Look at Stella. Which reminds me&. 

"Stella called last night," I tell Fraser. 

He looks at me, frowning a little. Waits. 

"Yeah," I tell him and roll my eyes. "She wanted to, uh, talk. It was weird. I mean, she was real nice about it, but she basically thinks I'm unhinged and with a death wish." 

Now he looks confused. "She thinks I'm going to kill you?" 

"Career wise," I tell him and take another bite. 

He frowns a little, puts his chopsticks down, and rubs his eyebrows. "She _does_ have a point." Very calm. "Have you thought about it?" 

I look at him. "No, Fraser, I'm flying blind, of course I've thought of it." A little pissed. "Haven't you?" 

He looks more relieved than anything else, even though I just snapped at him. Picks up his chopsticks and takes another bite, nods. 

Relieved. Okay, I can deal with that, that's a good thing. Means he's not worried about making my decisions for me, means maybe he's not scared I'm going to wake up one morning and panic about my job. 

"I'm not, ah, much in favor with my superiors in Canada anyway," he finally says and shrugs. "So I'm not concerned." 

Besides, he's real private about his private life, and I wouldn't doubt that some of them think he's like totally sexless. All that blushing. 

I nod and we finish eating mostly quiet, just comfortable. I like that, too. What's not to like about it, really? If I wasn't so tired, I might take a whack at jumping him, but it _is_ a weeknight, and he's got to go back to the Consulate, and I'm not letting him walk back, so &. 

Anyway, I finish first and sprawl back, rubbing my hand in the middle of his back. I get one of those smiles again, and boy, that's great. Really great. I let myself sort of zone, just letting myself enjoy the warmth I can feel through his shirt, the way his muscles shift every time he leans forward to take another bite. 

I'm kinda dozing when he leans back and pulls me close against him, sort of tipping me over so we're both lying stretched out on the couch and I'm against his chest between his legs. I roll over a little so I can wrap an arm around him and we just lie there together, not talking, not doing anything. Except he's rubbing the back of my shoulders, and I'm listening to his heartbeat. 

I haven't been sleeping too well the last few days. Too many pictures in my head, too many bad dreams. A woman could have died because I was too damn green to know what I was doing. And yeah, I get what Fraser keeps telling me, he's right, but it doesn't make me feel better about what Beth Bottrelle went through. 

Sometimes, I think he reads minds. He tugs me up, and I go, not without grumbling under my breath, but it's okay, he just kisses me. Gentle at first, and then not so gentle, and I'm soooo ready to get into that, but I can't help remembering the last time we broke Fraser's rules. 

"Whoa," I finally say, and there's nothing harder than pulling away from him. "This isn't a good idea. You have to work tomorrow, and so do I, and I'm not letting you walk back to the Consulate." 

He gives me a funny look. "You can give me a ride in the morning," he tells me and touches my mouth. 

Oh, man, I'm so tempted. "Fraser, you made this rule. I don't want you getting pissed at yourself tomorrow, okay?" Yeah, that's true, but I also don't want to spend a nasty few days not hearing from him. 

That gets a serious look. "Ray, I promised you I would never avoid you again." 

"I know." I nip at that finger. "But it's more than that, Fraser. I don't ever want you thinking-" Christ, how do I say this? I don't ever want him to feel like he's got to break his own rules because I'm a fucking mess. I'm _always_ a fucking mess, one way or another, that's just life. "I'm okay, that's all. You don't have to mess yourself up because you're worrying about me." 

He's not smiling this time, but there's something in his eyes that's making me feel wobbly. "I'm not going to mess myself up," he says softly. "I want to be here, Ray. We're not breaking the rules, we're just bending them a little." 

I'm still not sure. "Isn't that the start of that slippery slope you're always talking about?" 

He laughs then, pulls me back down, and kisses me hard. "No, it's not." He hooks his arm around my neck to keep me there and licks his way into my mouth, and boy, I am not complaining at all. 

When I finally come up for air, I'm breathing pretty hard. Wednesday night Fraser, better than sticky rice, heh. "Tomorrow morning, huh." 

"That means a minimum of wallowing, I'm afraid." He licks the tip of my nose, and I jerk my head back, which makes him laugh. "Can you handle that?" 

"Don't lick my nose, jeez." I rub it. "I can handle it. Let's go to bed." 

He grins. "Go ahead, I'll just rinse the dishes, first." 

Usually, I race him to it, sometimes Fraser the Neatnik drives me nuts, but tonight I'm just tired enough that I let him. 

I brush my teeth, kick my clothes off, and flop into bed. I changed the sheets Sunday night, this is Wednesday, and most of the nights in between I spent sleeping on the couch. They still smell a lot like fabric softener. I'll like 'em better when they smell like Fraser, but unfortunately, we have a bad habit of messing them up before I can spend extra nights sleeping on them. Not that I'm complaining, really. I still have the pillowcase from the pillow he uses. 

How lame is that? Pretty fucking lame, but I grin at the ceiling anyway. Fraser comes in and finds me lying there in my skivvies and shakes his head. "Ray, get under the blankets, at least, before you freeze." 

"Got my own heater." I waggle my eyebrows at him, and he gives me a grin. Hangs his tunic up in the bedroom closet, sits down on the edge of the bed to unlace his boots. Fucking boots. And those pants, I swear, are made to keep little Mountie boys and girls from ever getting naked, they lace up around at the bottom. 

Fortunately, Fraser is a determined Mountie. He's got the drill down pat, quick and neat, and he stands up and takes off his trousers to hang them up with the tunic. He even folds his Henley and puts it on the dresser. 

By this time, he's got some extra underwear here, too, but he'll have to shave at the Consulate. If it doesn't bother him, it doesn't bother me. When he gets into bed, I wrap myself over him like a cheap suit, lick my way up his throat back to his mouth, and oh, yeah, this is good, this is better than good. 

A little semi-naked wrestling, because he wants to flip me on my back and I'm not having any of it, and even though he outweighs me, I've got leverage, and we both end up laughing like loons and end up facing each other, just &just making out. 

I mean, I'm a guy, my dick wakes up and it's up and at 'em, but I like making out. A lot. Taking my time, letting everything build like crazy until I can't stand it any more. Fraser seems to like it a lot, too, but then he's Mr. Gotta-Lick-Everything, including electric sockets. 

He gets impatient before me, which makes me laugh again, and peels me out of my shorts to move past my mouth. Like I said, Mr. Gotta-Lick-Everything, and boy, did I win the lottery or what? I swear, there's no place on my body he won't put that tongue, and you know, that's pretty fucking hot. 

What else is weird, I like sucking his cock. I love sucking him off, I love the sounds he makes, I love the way he tastes, I love the way he tries so hard not to just lose control and fuck my throat, and even though I'm not exactly the best at it, I like the way he feels when he's doing that. Hot and thick and silky between my lips, and I squirm my way around in bed until I can feel that again. Just the head at first, and I say a nice hello to the sweet spot before taking him in deeper, before wrapping my hand around the base. He's licking my balls and his tongue travels down farther, which isn't a first, and I'm always amazed by how that feels. I can't believe he does that, and I haven't quite had the nerve to try it on him, but God, nobody told me there were nerves there that I hadn't discovered. 

He's wanting slow, and I'm all over that idea, this feels too good to rush, and I love where I am right now, and he's trying to hold back, moving his hips slow, but I can feel the tension under me, I know how good it feels to him. 

Thick and hot and sweet in my mouth, and God, he's sliding a finger inside me, and that's another thing, I never knew I'd come to crave that, it cranks me up another notch and there's no fucking way I can hold back very long, not with that pressure inside like that, and he's pushing harder into my mouth and throat and I just open up and urge him on, gripping his cock and stroking, pulling back and rubbing my lips around the head of his cock every couple of strokes. He's working me good, too, taking me all the way into his throat, and stroking me inside out, and I wonder what it would be like to have something beside his finger doing that, and that's it, I'm over the edge, and making noises in my throat, and I guess that's what does it for him, he starts pumping hot and thick, and I swear, it feels like I'm just coming for ever and like he is, and then we're done and I'm too lazy and too tired to move. I just want to stay there with my face pressed into him, but then he moves and I move and that's better, because he's wrapped around m 

Hey, we take turns. I'm so zoned, just wiped out and comfortable and not even remotely down, all those endowhatchacallits, and the blankets are all tugged up around us and nice and warm. 

I love this guy. Okay, I admitted it to myself. Now what, I wonder, and that's the last thought I have before I'm gone. 

Voodoo no less. In Chicago. I don't know what to think, I'm just glad that my dad found the car. 

Well, I do know what to think, I'm a stupid fuck, that's what. Fraser was right about lying, it's that slippery slope all right. 

Fortunately, my dad doesn't rag on me too long, and we have a good time working on the car again. I still haven't introduced Fraser to my parents. Feels weird to think about it. Trouble is, I'm scared. I've got them back, and I don't want to lose that again, and on the other hand, I've got Fraser, more or less, and I sure as hell don't want to lose him either. 

Mostly, I spend time trying not to think about it. And mostly, I'm pretty good at it. 

So we get done with the voodoo case, and then we've got Tracy Jenkins in town, and that's kind of interesting, at least until one of ours gets shot. McCafferty's okay, though, and Fraser's having fun. 

Fraser can sing. Oh, yeah, he can, so how come he stands there so stiff? Could be the uniform. 

He sure isn't stiff without it. Well, he is, heh, but not the wrong way. 

I decide to surprise Fraser the day the Jenkins crowd blows out of town, and take over a pizza. He looks happy to see me, always a plus, and we settle down in that hole of an office to eat and talk. 

"I was invited on tour," he tells me, and his grin is kind of mischievous. 

I stop in mid-bite, narrow my eyes at him until I'm sure he's ribbing me. "Yeah? Backup singer? Should have made you the opening act, girls'll go crazy for that red serge." 

He laughs a little. "I told her I had other responsibilities." 

No shit, she really asked him. I stare at him again. "Well, at least she's got taste," I tell him grudgingly. 

"What kind of bird was that again, Ray?" Mischief again. 

"You move like a block of wood, Fraser. But you sing like a bird." 

He takes a bite and arches his eyebrows at me. 

"You know, a songbird. One with the pretty songs." 

His ears get a little pink, believe it or not. 

"But I gotta teach you to dance." 

"That might be difficult, Ray, I didn't have a number of opportunities to learn to dance." 

"I can teach you." I sound pretty damn confident, and he gives me a look. "You do fine horizontally." 

Heh. He chokes on his pizza, turns bright red, and manages to laugh without killing himself. "Ray, Ray, Ray." 

We both freeze at the sound of footsteps in the hall, and the Ice Queen jerks the door open. "Constable-oh, Detective Vecchio." She looks down her nose at me. "I didn't realize you were, ah, entertaining." 

Boy, she gets my hair up, I swear. "I brought him dinner," I tell her, trying not to snarl. The woman never knocks and she knows this is the only place he has any privacy. Well, outside of my place, but I sure as hell won't tell her that. 

"Oh." She glances at her watch. "Well, I just stopped by to pick up some reports. Did you finish?" 

He puts his pizza down on the lid of the box, goes unerringly to a folder. "Yes, sir, I did. Here you are." 

"Thank you, Constable." She gives me another look and then turns around and leaves. Leaves the door open. 

I roll my eyes at Fraser. "Jesus, put a knocker on the door, or lock it." 

"That would only give rise to further difficulty," he tells me and sighs, rubs his eyebrows. "She's really not very difficult, Ray. I mean, she has her moments." 

Yeah, she does. Treats him like a damn servant half the time when what she really wants is to get inside his pumpkin pants. I can't blame her for that, half of Chicago wants inside his pants, and I'm the one that got lucky. "If you say so." I take another bite, watch him sit back down and finish his piece of pizza. Dief is sitting at my feet, looking alert, and when Fraser glances back at the pizza, I slip Dief what's left of mine. 

Naturally, that doesn't pass unnoticed. Fraser looks at me, a little glint in his eye. "Ray." 

"It was just the crust," I tell him innocently. 

Dief gives him an innocent look, too. 

Fraser shakes his head, but he's not mad, I can tell because his mouth twitches. 

We finish eating, and then take Dief out for his nightly walk. It's Thursday, and I nudge Fraser as we walk along. "So, you got plans this weekend?" Making sure he knows I'm asking for real, and also teasing a little. Don't want to take things for granted, that's a good way to end up getting burned. 

"I believe I do," he says, and nudges back. "But I'm sure I could postpone them if a better offer came along." 

"Better not," I growl. 

He laughs a little. "Do you really think there's anything better that could make me change my mind?" 

I like the sound of that. "There's always that possibility, ya know." Grumbling. 

"Not likely." 

We're walking down the street with Dief, heading toward the little park, and we're hardly touching, and I want to touch him, I want to touch him soooooo bad. But we're walking down the street, so I don't, but I bump him again because I can't. 

"Tomorrow night," he says, and it sounds a lot like a promise. 

"Oh, yeah." I'm grinning like a doof and I don't care. 

So I sleep good that night, because the bad dreams are finally gone. Maybe not for good, but they're gone. 

Maggie McKenzie. I don't want to like her, I don't want to like her much at all, except she's fucking gorgeous, and she reminds me of Fraser so much it makes me crazy. What else makes me crazy is that he is all over her. I mean, for Fraser he is. 

So I'm crazy two ways, and I'm flirting with her like mad, or trying to, anyway, and she's like Fraser, completely oblivious, but Fraser's not oblivious, and what's making me even crazier is that I can't tell if he's noticing because he wants her or if he's noticing because he thinks I want her. 

The hell of it is, I think I could want her. I mean, she's fucking gorgeous. Of course, she's also totally fucked up, and on the run now, and he acts like this isn't anything to get worked up about. 

He's also got that switch pulled big time where we aren't anything but buddies, and even when we're in the car alone, there's nada there. Zip. Zilch. 

By this time, I'm so confused that I don't know if I'm relieved or not. 

When I call the Consulate, Turnbull tells me that Fraser's suspended. In disgrace. In deep shit. 

So now maybe I know I'm not all that relieved. Now I know I'm going to hit the low in the rollercoaster of the last couple of days, and if he's not at the Consulate, I'm not really sure where he'd be, but when I head down the hall to the men's room to wash my face and stew a minute in private, guess who comes down the hallway from the other direction. 

The upshot of this is that we figure out where Maggie might be heading, and we go there, and ta da, Fraser's standing there telling Maggie that he's her brother. 

Her brother? I may be dumb, but even I know Canada's not that much different from everywhere else, he _can't_ have been coming on to his sister, and how the fuck did he figure _that_ out anyway? 

By this time, I'm totally, totally pissed off at both of us, and just because I'm in a shitty mood, I don't talk to him about it. Not that I have a lot of chances, he's there with Maggie seeing her through the whole nine yards, and Thatcher feels guilty enough that she greases the wheels for Maggie to get off suspension, and Maggie gets all dressed in her red serge again and comes down to sign some paperwork at the station. 

I can't even fault Fraser for sticking close. If I just found out I had a sister and vice versa, I'd probably be doing the same thing. 

But I'm enough of a shit that I tell Fraser to turn around so I can give her a nice polite peck on the cheek, and she tells Fraser to turn around again, and I kiss her on the mouth. Just nice, polite, friendly. 

It's almost a relief not to feel any real chemistry, although I still like her a lot, and kind of wish it was kosher to give her a hug. 

Fraser promptly turns around again, and walks Maggie to the cab, and I go back into the station and try and focus on some files. Two shootings, one a drive-by, and a couple of burglaries. 

Fraser doesn't come back in, so I figure he's walked back to the Consulate. I manage another couple of hours of work and then I have to head out, I can't stand it any more. I go to the gym, do a little sparring, but that just brings me down harder, thinking about Levon and what happened here. I shower and head out again, and by this time, the Ice Queen has got to be gone, so I drive over to the Consulate. 

Fraser answers the door, and he looks down, which pretty much dries up everything I planned to say to him. 

"Hey," I say. "You okay?" 

He nods. "Would you like to come in." 

Now I have a lump in my throat. "I just wanted to ask you something." 

He looks at me, rubs his eyebrows. "Oh?" 

"Yeah. Before you knew Maggie was your sister-did you want her?" 

He frowns at me. "What?" 

"Did you want her? Because you acted like it." 

He moves back from the door, waves me in. "What are you talking about?" 

"It's an easy question, Fraser." 

"And one I might ask you, Ray." Snarky. 

Snarky Fraser is better than oblivious Fraser. "Yeah, fair enough. I liked her." I look him dead on. "I liked her a lot. But I'll tell you, Fraser, that was about all." 

He gives me a look, narrow eyes, almost pissed. "You could have fooled me. You said you had feelings for her." 

"Some of that was true. Some of it was just trying to figure out what the hell was going on in your head." I'm mad and I'm hurting and even though I'd never punch him again, it's awful tempting right now. "Because if you want to just call it quits, I sure as hell would appreciate you telling me up front." 

That shocks him. A lot. "Ray," he says, backing down from about to get truly snarky. "Ray, I don't." 

"So what was it?" I'm not backing down. 

"I felt comfortable with Maggie. It's hardly surprising, after all-" 

"Fraser." 

"No, I didn't want her, Ray." He's holding my gaze, dead on. "I liked her a lot, I found her attractive, but there wasn't any particular spark, if that's what you're asking." 

My knees want to wobble, but I suck it up. "Okay." My eyes are prickling, and I don't even know where the fuck _that's_ coming from. "Okay, that's all I wanted to know." 

He takes a step toward me. "Ray-" 

"I gotta go, Fraser. It's a weeknight." And I'm out that door before he can stop me. Because I have to figure out where my head's been, too, it's only fair. 

So, I go home, and yeah, I pour myself a drink. And then another one. 

And I think hard, think about what I was really doing, and what I think Fraser was doing, and where we go from here. 

Okay. Maggie is like Fraser. I love Fraser. At least I'm pretty damn sure I love Fraser, or I wouldn't have been on the verge of bawling like a kid in the front hall of the Consulate an hour ago. I like Maggie. I like Maggie a lot. I admit, I wanted to choke her for the first fifteen minutes after I met her, but that was because, like I said, Fraser was practically all over her. 

I feel guilty about flirting with her. Not because it annoyed Fraser, but because it wasn't completely honest. Partly honest. Jesus, the Mountie is wearing off on me. I flirt with women all the time in passing, I mean, Jesus, I can't very well flirt with Fraser in public, and it sort of helps keeps me in practice. So why do I feel guilty? 

Because I like Maggie. 

Okay, it's official now, I'm certifiable, and I don't finish the second drink because there's a knock at the door, and it's Fraser, and he's still wearing his uniform and Dief is with him, and he looks mildly pissed off, and worried all at the same time. 

I just open the door wider and let him in. 

He comes in, Dief whines and follows him and I shut the door. 

He tosses-I mean, tosses-the hat on the coffee table and turns on me and I'm up against the wall and he's kissing the hell out of me, Scotch taste or not. 

Whoa. This is a new kink I've just discovered, primal Fraser, and he's got his fingers tangled in the hem of my t-shirt and I hear this ripping sound. 

He's no shit ripping my shirt off me. Jesus, I'm glad it's not one of my favorites. I'm so turned on, though, I'm all over him, trying to yank that tunic off. He takes my wrists and presses them up against the wall, and oh, sweet Jesus, my knees want to go out from under me. 

Definitely a new kink. And the tunic is rough on my chest and belly, and the buttons are pressing into my skin and then he lets go and leans back. "Does that answer your question?" Rough voice. 

I slide down the wall. Okay, I've had a couple of drinks, but I'm no way, no way drunk. Just feeling a little edge of a buzz, but Fraser, God. "Yes." Frankie Vallee time again, I'm lucky I have enough air in my lungs not to squeak. 

His expression gentles. "Good." He leans down and gives me a hand up. 

My t-shirt is hanging open and I look down at it. Blink and shake my head to clear it. I look back up at him. "I don't want anyone but you," I tell him and swallow hard. "I mean it, Fraser." 

He looks back at me. "You could call me by my name," he tells me. Very mild tone, but all of a sudden, I get it. I get it all the way. 

"What did Vecchio call you?" Jeez, where the hell did _that_ come from? I close my mouth so fast it's a wonder I didn't chop off the tip of my tongue. 

Fraser looks like he wonders, too, but fortunately, I don't think he gets it. "Benny, usually." 

I nod. "Benton or Ben, which do you prefer? And you don't ever call me Stan, you got that?" 

His mouth curves and he starts undoing the intricate fastenings of his tunic. "Right you are, Ray. Ben will do very nicely, thank you." 

Okay, works for me. "Ben," I say, and you know, I like it. I like Fraser, too, but hell, I call him that all day long, if he wants me to call him Ben when we're alone, that's cool. We're not talking cutesy nicknames like Benny, and I'm still not sure why that annoys me. Or why all of a sudden, I want to pop the real Vecchio in the head. 

Slow dancing, I think and then I'm helping him with his tunic. Not very well, but we manage it and then, I stop dead. "Wait a minute, it's Tuesday." 

Fraser gives me the Are-You-Unhinged look. "Your point, Ray?" 

Hey, forget I mentioned it. "Never mind." And I start working on his waistband, but he turns me toward the bedroom. 

He stops dead when I ask him, "Did you and the real Vecchio ever, um &" 

"What?" Loud and like he can't believe his ears. 

"Never mind," I tell him hastily and turn back around to tug him with me. 

He's got the tunic unbuttoned by now, and gives me a little shove onto the bed, and for about five minutes he's on top of me. When he lifts his head, he looks down at me. "Ray Vecchio?" Like he still can't believe it. 

"Forget it, it was a stupid question." 

"It was certainly an unusual question," he agrees and bites my chin before he gets up to take off his tunic and hang it up. "Why in the world would you even-" 

"I'm unhinged." I wave vaguely. "Forget it." 

Fraser sits down on the bed to lose the boots. I can try and help with that, which tends to make him laugh, and while laughing is good, it's not where I'm at right now. Nope, nope, nope. I'm thinking about what else might feel good in my ass, and that's a pretty freaking scary thought, because this is the big time, this is the moment of truth. 

On the other hand, let's face it, I can't think of anyone else I'd trust this much, so I lean up and whisper in his ear, "I want you inside me." 

He looks over his shoulder at me, and I swear, his eyes just go darker. "What?" 

Now I'm a little embarrassed. "You know." I'd just come out and tell him to fuck me, but hey, this is Fraser, and this is the first time I've come up with this, and I really, really, really don't want to turn him off. 

Oh, man, those eyes. "Have you ever done that before?" He's still staring at me. 

Now, I'm annoyed. "You gotta be kidding, right?" 

And then I'm not annoyed, I'm flat on my back and whooo, boy, I think he likes the idea, because the boots aren't even off and he's got his tongue down my throat, and jesus, that's hot. "Ray," he mutters and nips my mouth, "Ray, are you sure that's what you want?" 

"I'm going to pop you in the head," I tell him and gasp because he finds my left nipple and sucks it. "Or not." 

He kisses my mouth again. "I've never done it, either." 

Well, I figured, but I wasn't sure. "So? How hard can it be? Tab A, slot B-" 

Which gets me kissed again and I'm all over that, at least for a minute. "Fraser-Ben, you're getting kinda sidetracked here. Lose the clothes." 

"Lubricant," he says, like I didn't say anything. "We'll need lubricant, if you're serious, Ray." 

"Covered," I say. Hey, when I jerk off, I like the good stuff, nice and slippery. 

His eyes get smoky again. 

"Clothes," I say, "Lose 'em." 

He sits up straight again and goes back to the boots, and I shimmy out of my jeans and shorts and my dick is already sitting up and taking notice. Wednesday night Fraser was good, Tuesday night Fraser is better. 

Like I said, he's determined, and in no time, he hangs those trousers up, strips off his skivvies and then there's a very hot, very turned on Mountie on top of me and we're rolling around on the bed kissing and biting and basically acting like a couple of animals that got out of cages a heartbeat ago. 

Whoever decided that guys aren't into foreplay was just nuts, I have to say. Maybe it's just me and Fraser, but I am all over that, licking that smooth skin, working those rosy nipples-and he likes that as much as I do, let me tell you. He's not the only one into licking in this bed, and I have to admit, when it comes to this, I don't much care where I put my tongue. 

I'm learning, that's all, and he tastes like himself. I think maybe my brain has decided that Fraser taste is the sign of a good thing, or else my dick has, because I'm so hard I ache, and my dick is dripping by the time he gets down between my legs and starts with his tongue again. 

Oh, Jesus, yes, that's what made me want this, the way he works me up, and I'm holding my legs apart and holding onto the sheets white-knuckled, and begging him, please, please, please. 

So then we have to find the lubricant, and then I'm the focus of some pretty unhinged intensity, which is almost enough to make me come, so I have to grab my dick and press hard, which makes him a little more unhinged. Two fingers, and then three, and he won't hurry, dammit, and I'm biting his shoulder and collarbone and trying to push him faster, but he rolls me onto my side and rests his weight over me. "Slow down." Husky voice. "I will _not_ hurt you, Ray, and if that means we go slower-" 

Okay, I tell myself, panting and squirming and rocking my ass into those fingers, slow dancing, I can do this. I can do this like nobody's business. Oh, wow, three fingers, and Jesus, there's a little burn there, but I take in a breath and let it out and push down a little, and it's okay, whoa, better then okay, and I'm sort of mindlessly humping on those fingers, getting those little jolts every time his fingers stroke over that sweet spot inside. 

He feels a lot thicker and hotter than those fingers, and for a minute, I clamp down, a little bit startled, and yeah, it hurts a little. Deep breath, and he's licking my throat, saying my name, telling me to breathe. 

This is Fraser, Ben, this is my Mountie, and I lean my head back on his shoulder, and we're sort of lying on our sides, and he slides his hand between my legs and lifts the top leg over his and just waits. My dick's not quite as hard, really, kind of lying down on the job, and that bothers me in the back of my mind, but I figure that's kind of normal. 

"Do it." I push back against him, feel that burn again. Deep breath, push, and he still won't move, he's letting me do it at my own speed. I'm turned on and a little freaked out, and all I can think is that he's the only person in the world I'd trust for this, and that gets my dick standing up again, God knows why. Trust and yeah, okay, I love the guy, I admitted it to myself already, and I push hard and then he's in me all the way and I'm panting, and my ass is against his lower belly and he's hot, so hot. 

He moans against the back of my neck. "Oh, dear God, Ray, don't move." 

Jolt right to the base of the spine, hearing that edge in his voice. Love that, love that, knowing that I did that to him. It's weird, having that be hot, but it is. Guess they aren't all that far off when they say the brain's the biggest erogenous zone, huh? 

I'm getting hard again, and he brings that hand over, all slick with lube and starts stroking me. Playing with me. Not even like he's jerking me off, just like he's playing. And then he rocks his hips forward and whoa, that feels good, really good, and I hear somebody making noises and it's me. He pulls back, just a little, and then in again, and there's another jolt to my dick, and I'm pushing back again and we find the rhythm and he's sucking at the side of my throat, and whispering stuff I can't quite process, because my attention is focused lower down. 

He's fucking me, and that fact alone is almost enough to send me over, what with my dick wide awake again. He's fucking me, he's inside me, and it's making him a little crazy, and I'm moving harder now, and it still feels pretty damn good. Don't know if I'm going to be able to sit down at my desk tomorrow, might have to sort of sit on my hip, and who cares, this is infuckingcredible. 

"Yes, Ray," he's whispering and that tongue strokes around the edge of my ear, he sucks on my earlobe, nips the spot just below on my neck. He's stroking me hard now, and he's picking up the pace. "Come for me, Ray." 

There's something mindboggling about the fact that Mr-Doesn't-Say-Damn is telling me to come for him, so like a good boy, I do, I swear, I come forfuckingever, and the weirdest thing is that I could swear I feel him get thicker, I swear I feel him throb inside me and come and it's total meltdown time, I'm gone, out beyond Pluto, and when I get back, he's holding me hard, his arm around my chest, and I turn my head and just go for his mouth. 

He's starting to slip out of me, and I can feel a kind of ache there, but I'm good, I'm better than good. He shifts, and I shift, and then he's kissing me deeper, but not rough. "You're all right?" Soft voice, a little worried. 

"Duh, what do you think?" I give him a doofus smile. "You?" 

That just gets me kissed again, and I'm _all_ over that, even if I just came my brains out and I'm feeling drowsy. One and a half drinks, and a mindblowing fuck, yeah, I'm drowsy. 

Not a chance I get to slide under, though, we do some more kissing and then I'm having to let him drag me to the shower, and he checks me out enough to be embarrassing and doesn't relax until he's satisfied, and then, hey, that's okay, there's a lot of slurpy necking in the shower and back in bed when we're done. He even cleans up the mess on the sheets, which is good, because frankly, I could lie in it for all I care. 

I love the guy. Okay? I'm in love with a Mountie from Canada, and I feel guilty, because I'd be just as happy if the brass stayed mad at him for the rest of his life and made him stay here, because I don't even want to think about how I'd feel if they sent him back. 

Dumb, Kowalski. Really dumb. And too late to be worrying about, so I fold myself around him and put my head on his shoulder and apologize in my head for hoping he ends up here for a long, long, long time. 

"My turn next time," Fraser says, sounding kinda drowsy himself. 

I'm too tired to argue. "Mmmhmmm." 

I hear him yawn. "No wallowing in the morning." Regretfully. 

"Mmmhmmm." 

His mouth grazes my forehead and I tighten my arm, holding on even while I'm falling off the edge of the world &.. 

* * *

End Moment of Truth by anonymous co:

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